Frieday

in to myself
am I this eve
my brain a bulging mass
of mush gone hard
I candidly admit
friends, here
I am fried
there is no burning pan
nor flame asunder
bubbling lard is not scorching my soul
heat is not harassing my heart
I this eve
am just frazzled to the ends of my hair
and to the tips of my curling toes
that should be cold
down here in the basement

skeleton stallion

skeleton stallion